Ghosts
by PinkiePie123
Summary: After Peeta came by with the primroses, I began to realize something. Like he did when he tossed me the bread, Peeta has given me, once again, the hope I needed to survive. We learn to cope with the losses and try to make a new life for ourselves. I know we can get past the ghosts that are always haunting us if we stick together.
1. Flowers and Sunsets

As I walk to the garden one evening to water the primroses, I notice something. One of the beautiful flowers has bloomed. The little yellow flower fans out its petals like wings and is just so gorgeous that all I can do is stand there in awe. Then, I start to smile. I smile for the very first time since I lost her. I take my time memorizing every detail of the flower. I sniff it, inhaling the sweet scent. Finally, I touch the petals gently with my hand, fearing that if I touch it anymore it will break. Suddenly, all of my happiness drains out. This is a flower. Flowers die. It will not stay this beautiful forever.

I see a light on in Peeta's house. I run to his door and burst inside because he left the door unlocked. When I find him, he is in the kitchen, baking something with that intense concentration look he always has when he is baking or painting.

"Peeta! Peeta! You have to come over here now!" I scream at him. He looks confused, but I don't have time to explain. I take his wrist and drag him to the garden. He still looks confused but I point down at the blooming primrose. As he sees what I am pointing at, he stops dead and stares, mouth hanging open. We stare together for a while until I tell him about my idea.

"Peeta, do you think that you could paint this? Flowers don't last forever and I really want some way to remember the first primrose" I say. He nods and smiles.

Peeta returns with his sketchbook and some colored pencils. He sits down in front of the flowers and looks at our first primrose, contemplating how to draw it. He sets to work and I watch him. He perfectly captures the shape of all of the petals and leaves. When he colors it all, he gets the color of the flower just right. It almost seems like its glowing. Just when I think he's done, he grabs an orange pencil from beside him. He shades the area just above the primrose. He adds pinks and reds and more yellow. I watch as a sunset comes alive on the page. It is sunset. I had forgotten. My eyes go to the sky which is now a beautiful orange. I watch the sun go down slowly over the horizon. When it is finally gone, my eyes go back to the ground. I notice that Peeta had finished drawing and was watching with me. Peeta smiles when he catches me looking at him and hands me the picture of the primrose. The finished picture is almost as perfect as the real thing.

"This is just a sketch so far. I'm going to try and transfer this onto canvas tomorrow."

"Thank you" I say and we both get up from where we were sitting on the grass. I head back to my bedroom with the picture clutched tightly in my hand. I place it next to Prim's satin ribbon on my dresser.

That night I go to sleep without any nightmares.


	2. Ribbons and Crying

Strangely enough, Buttercup and I have made peace. We have come to a common ground now that Prim is gone. We mourn for her together. He doesn't hiss at me anymore. I pet him as he stalks around the house. Now that I don't have to worry about my family starving, I feed him real meat, not just pig entrails. It finally gets to the point where he sleeps at the foot of my bed. Before I know it, I've begun to like him. But it wasn't this way when he first appeared at our house in Twelve.

One morning, I began to tie my hair back into its braid. I reached for a band I keep in the dresser. Instead of finding the band, my fingers closed around a satin ribbon. I realized that it belonged to Prim. I stroked it with my thumb, remembering how my little duck would always have her perfect blonde hair tied in two braids with these ribbons. By then, I was shaking with grief and helplessly reliving her fiery death.

I felt something fluffy circling my legs and heard mewling. It was Buttercup. He looked intently on the ribbon in my hand, as if he knew that it belonged to her. It is then and there when I really began to look at this cat. It had crossed an entire district just to find Prim. But she's not here and she never will be again.

"Get out of here, you stupid cat! She's not here anymore, you won't find her!" I screamed at him. He didn't even move. Instead, he sat there growling, still staring at the ribbon. I held out the ribbon towards him. He raised his head and sniffed it for a long time.

By then, I couldn't take it anymore. I cry. I cry and cry and cry until I can barely breathe. Buttercup moved to sit next to me. I pet his ugly brown fur until I fell asleep. I had never cried like that in a long time. I guess I did when my father died, but I can't remember crying for anyone else I had seen killed. Even after the Games and during the rebellion, I wouldn't cry: not for Cinna, not for Finnick, not for Rue, not even for Peeta when he was being tortured in the Capitol. But that wasn't okay. I need to cry for them, all of them. Buttercup taught me how to do just that.


	3. Hunting and Gathering

One summer morning, I awake to rays of sun shining through the bedroom window. I hadn't slept well that night. Images of Finnick being torn apart by mutts had kept me up. I need to escape these ghosts. I wasn't going to be able to stay inside all day. Without thinking, I open the small closet in my room. I grab my father's hunting jacket, my game bag, and my bow and arrows. I walk quickly through the meadow and towards the fence.

I finally stop and let out a long, shaky breath. This would be the first time I went back to the woods since I came back home. I didn't need to hunt anymore now. I didn't have anyone to rely on me for food. Nonetheless, the woods were still my savior from all of the stress, all of the sadness, and all of the ghosts. I bend down and listen for the hum of the electricity on the fence, but I remember that the fence doesn't get electricity anymore.

I crawl through the opening and emerge inside the woods, _my_ woods. At first, I don't do anything. I just stand there, inhaling the musky scent and listening to the quiet chirping of mockingjays. After about an hour of this, I go home.

The next day, I come back. I go a bit farther into the woods and when I think I am far enough away from another pair of ears, I start to sing. I sing the Valley Song and the Hanging Tree. Sure enough, the mockingjays have gone silent. These songs are too long for them to pick up so I just whistle Rue's four note tune. They repeat it back to me enthusiastically. I smile and head home again.

Another day dawns and I trudge to the woods again. This time, I head to the strawberry patch. I reach the bushes and notice that they are still covered in the mesh nets Gale and I set up. I remove the net, pick a few berries, and slide the net back on. I get some Katniss tubers as well and some other herbs.

The sun rises once again and I am in the woods once more. I head to the lake where my father taught me how to swim. At first I just dip my feet in the slightly cool water. I splash around a little bit, getting used to the feeling. Finally, I get a burst of confidence and plunge my whole body into the water, not caring that all my clothes will be soaking wet.

One more day makes its appearance and I go to the river. I take out the poles I keep in a hollow log and set them down. Then, I take off the fish hook and shape it with my fingers. I try to make it like Mags used to. Every fish hook she made was perfect. After I am satisfied with it, I put the hook back on. That day, I catch more fish than I ever had in one day.

_Today will be the day I do it_, I think to myself. I wasn't happy with the idea of killing things anymore and I knew that today I was not going to get much excitement from killing animals. But if I didn't hunt, I was not me anymore. This was something I needed to do again. I wanted to do it again. I take an arrow out of the quiver on my back and position it in my bow. I wait, silent and still, until I hear rustling in the nearby bushes. Instinctively, I turn the bow towards the direction of the noise and see the squirrel stick its head out. _This is not a human_; I think to myself, _it's just another squirrel that you can use to feed your family_. I let the arrow fly and it lodges in the right eye of the squirrel. Feeling proud of myself, I take the squirrel home. When I get to the kitchen, I see Peeta is here talking to Sae. He brought fresh bread which was now sitting on the table, smelling like nuts and raisins. When they see the squirrel Sae beams and Peeta grins, saying "Right through the eye, every time."


	4. Buildings and Beginnings

Twelve is rebuilding. The banging, clanging, booming noises of construction can be heard everywhere. There are plans for a new justice building, a new hospital, and even a new Hob. For the most part, everything is being built on top of the ruins of their corresponding buildings. The hospital will be placed where the physician's office was. The justice building will go right on top of the old one, but this time the stage will be for elections, not picking which kids will be slaughtered. It will even have a memorial for all of the war victims from Twelve. The Hob, which is now a legal market, begins to take form. I'm not sure how I feel about all of this. In a lot of ways, it still looks like the district I grew up in, but in a lot of ways it doesn't. The ruins aren't gone yet, and the ghosts are still present.

Peeta and I both decide to join the cleanup crews. We help rebuild what was destroyed in the bombing. I know this is hard for Peeta because he still has his doubts on who was responsible for all of this. He handles it well, though. When he feels a flashback coming on, he puts down any tools he was holding and grips something – a piece of wood, a block of concrete, anything that helps him keep hold of reality. It is not much fun for me either. I can't help but think that I caused all this, with my stupid berry stunt. When this happens, I try to remember what Dr. Aurelius said to me: the people wanted a rebellion, the people who died wanted to be free of the Capitol, the world is safer and no one else will starve…

Peeta decides to open up the bakery again. It too stands atop its predecessor. In a matter of months, a brand new bakery stands where there was once nothing but rubble. For the most part, the design is the same. There is a counter and shelves for the pastries and breads. A window looks out towards the rest of the town with another shelf for the cake display. In the yard, the big apple tree stands tall and undamaged, except for faint scorch marks on the trunk. The pig pen is also left the same, but this time with new pigs. Now, Peeta works there every day. He finds other people to help him now that his family is gone and he even frosts cakes again. Although he admits his family's ghosts are still apparent there, he likes it. He smiles more often now. He has something to distract him from the empty hours of grief and sorrow.

I decide that I want a new beginning too. I cannot just spend my days inside or hunting in the woods. I tell Sae of my problem and she suggests that I could work with her at her soup counter in the new Hob. I genuinely smile when I accept. This way I can spend time every day hunting to bring meat for her and cook for Twelve's remaining residents. It's also one of the only ways I can think of to repay Sae for all she did for me when I couldn't take care of myself. I owe her and I am going to repay that debt.


	5. Drawings and Memories

Peeta and I walk to the town one day. The entire town area has been rebuilt. We had planned to come see the war memorial. Just in front of the new Justice Building is a huge wall with over hundreds of plaques with names of everyone from District Twelve who lost their lives in the rebellion. Most of the names I recognize. I see the names of Peeta's and Madge's families. I see Darius's name and names of people I knew from school and the Hob who must have died in the bombing. When I see Prim's name, I let out a tiny squeak. Her memory is a little, metal plaque and nothing more. She deserves more than this. She deserves to be remembered properly. Everyone on this memorial does. They were all people once, people who died fighting for freedom. Their stories need to be heard and remembered.

I turn to Peeta and say, "I want to make a book – a book with stories about everyone who lost their lives in the Games and in the rebellion. We could have Haymitch help us out for it. I could write and you could draw pictures of everyone."

"That's a great idea. We should call Dr. Aurelius. He could send us some paper and I'm sure he'd be really happy that you decided to do this"

With that, we walk home together. As soon as we get to my house, I grab the phone and call Dr. Aurelius. He picks up on the first ring and is enthusiastic about the idea of the book. Within a few days, we are shipped all of the paper we need.

That night, Peeta and I sit down on the couch in my living room, staring at the blank page before us.

"Who do you want to start with?" he asks.

"I don't know. I don't think we should start off with anyone too hard. I think I want to do my dad."

"Sounds good, you can write on this page and I'll draw him on this one"

We work in silence. Recounting my father's memory is hard but I need to make sure he is remembered. I pour out every little detail about him onto the sheet of paper and when I am done I see that Peeta is done drawing him. It is incredibly accurate. I wonder how Peeta managed to capture such detail even though he barely knew my father. It is almost like I am looking at a photograph of him. His grey Seam eyes are the precise color of smoke, he wears the hunting jacket that is now mine and he smiles softly out of the page and it almost as if he is smiling at _me_.

"It's beautiful, Peeta. Thank you, it's like he's _here_ again"

"No problem" he says and yawns. It's getting late and both of us need to sleep. I tell him good night and he goes home. I go upstairs and try to fend off the images of my father exploding to bits in the mines.


	6. Nightmares and Realizations

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games and its characters belong to the brilliant mind of Suzanne Collins. **

Without either of us saying anything, Peeta and I grow closer. Sometimes I will be cleaning up around the house and notice a paintbrush that definitely wasn't there before or open up the kitchen cabinet to find more and more tubes of frosting and bags of flour. We eat meals together, making idle talk about rebuilding and baking and hunting, but never anything about the Games or what we've been through. We spend long hours on the memory book and tend the primroses together. On our good days, we can smile and occasionally even laugh. We don't put any labels in what we are to each other now; we just spend time together, enjoying the other's company. This arrangement usually ended at night, when Peeta would say a quick goodnight and we would both be left alone to fend off the ghosts that threatened to break us into a million pieces. But eventually, things change. Peeta's flashbacks become less severe and less frequent. A little over a year has passed before we are sleeping in each other's arms like we were before the Quell, but it is a process and becoming so close again had taken time.

A few weeks ago, I had decided to make Prim's page in the memory book. It took everything I had and I was a wreck afterwards. I was screaming and crying and it became obvious that I was not going to be able to sleep anytime soon. After my agony had subsided somewhat, Peeta took me back to my bedroom. He gave me a glass of water and sat down beside the bed. He stroked my hair and whispered sweet words in my ear until I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up, he was gone.

This continued for some time. Peeta would hear me screaming, come calm me down until I fell asleep, and leave afterwards. But one day, I wake up and there he is beside me. Moving slowly to not wake him, I look up towards the window. Sure enough, it is wide open and the summer light pours through it. I smile; maybe my boy with the bread is coming back to me.

From that day on, Peeta stays with me until morning when we both eat breakfast and head off to work. At first, we never touched unless I was to calm each other down. Other than that we were just two people who shared a bed. However, as time passes, we grow closer. The space between us dissolves and we end up sleeping wrapped in one another like we did in Quell. With each night, he grows more comfortable, sometimes placing a light kiss on my forehead or cheek before we go to sleep. Sometimes, I will wake up to find him shaking with a nightmare of his own and try to repeat the sweet words he uses to soothe me and stroke his arm until he feels better.

One night, I watch helplessly as Peeta is torn apart by mutts. He screams and screams but no matter how fast I run, I cannot reach him. When I finally do, I know I am too late. His heart is not beating and there is no Finnick around to restart it. I am crying, yelling for him to wake up. Not long after that, I find myself in Peeta's protective arms, whispering soothingly into my ear, telling me he is alright. I guess I must have been screaming his name. I turn my head slightly to look at him, really look at him. I see scars, and I know that they must match my own. I see bright blue eyes that peeked out of the back door of the bakery all of those years ago. I see a boy who loves me or at least used to. But mostly, I see him as the boy I love. I never wanted to admit it, but I do love him. He gave me hope when I had none and saved my life more than once. I couldn't love him before because love was something I never wanted; it caused too much loss and pain in the end. But maybe now it would be okay to try and love. Now there are no Games, no Snow, no mutts, and no tyranny. It was time to open my heart instead of keeping it under lock and key.

As if reading my mind, Peeta asks, "You love me, real or not real?"

"Real," I say, trying to put all of my love for him into this one word.


End file.
